


Snowflakes and Peppermint

by Balletismyobsession



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Self Harm, harming, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-30 10:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6421075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balletismyobsession/pseuds/Balletismyobsession
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reluctant trip to the ice skating rink turns into an unexpected meeting. But while Kurt thinks nothing can make him forgive Blaine, this time of year is full of surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"How you ever got me out here, I have no idea." Kurt's eyebrows were raised as he tilted his chin up to survey the scene in front of him.

"Oh, come on bud. You loved ice skating as a kid."

Kurt turned his head to give a small smile to his dad. "I'm not a kid anymore, dad."

Burt cleared his throat and shuffled a bit, in a way that seemed to add more vulnerability to the man Kurt had seen weaken and climb back to health. Burt's voice was soft when he placed a hand on Kurt's shoulder and said, "Then humor an old man."

Kurt felt his lip twitch into a bigger smile. "Don't think this means you're getting out of taking me for hot chocolate." He remembered their tradition very clearly, though he hadn't been back here in years. And their duo had been a trio at that time. He knew it meant a lot to his dad that he'd agreed to come this year, for whatever reason had made Burt want to relive their annual drive to gaze at the Christmas lights en route to the ice rink.

And just being here brought back so many memories. His hands reached up to thread the button through the top hole of his coat, as his mother used to do when he was small. Burt no longer ruffled his hair as he would have years ago, but now he gave his son an affectionate nudge with his shoulder.

"Wouldn't think about missing that. You know it's the whole reason I'd come." Burt laughed and Kurt knew for however many years his mother had tried to coax him onto the ice with her and their son, she'd been unsuccessful. And every year, the two would skate until Kurt was too tired with his cheeks red and bright, and Burt would be waiting for them, balancing three hot chocolates. Elizabeth's with the stick of peppermint, Kurt's with cinnamon, and his with no whipped cream.

Kurt swore he could smell peppermint in the air when he took a deep breath and squeezed his father's arm softly before turning to the counter to rent his skates. It had been so long since he'd been here, or skating in general, and after lacing up tightly, he tittered over to the door, carefully placing one skate on the ice and hoping he would make it more than two feet before he fell on his butt.

Surprisingly, the feel of being on the ice was more muscle memory than he remembered having. Like riding a bike, he thought as he began his first lap around. The rink wasn't too crowded, though he watched as the small children raced past him, skating faster than he could ever want to go anymore. This coat was Armani, not the best thing to be skating in, but winter was his favorite season and Kurt Hummel was not going to pass up any small opportunity to look his best.

Kurt didn't remember how many laps he'd done. He'd glance up every so often and see his father sitting in the bleachers with other parents and on the last look, Kurt had seen Burt with a small girl, no older than three, perched on his lap and making her giggle as her parents watched on. Kurt felt a warmth fill his heart. It was then that he felt glad he came, if only to see the look of real happiness on his father's face that had evaded him for so long year after year at Christmastime.

The song playing over the loudspeaker faded and then grew louder as it changed. Maybe it was chance that Kurt happened to pay attention at that moment, but the first notes of "Baby, It's Cold Outside" filled the rink and Kurt's heart ached but he quickly pushed aside that feeling to concentrate on his skating and not start crying in the middle of the ice.

He managed to keep the bitter thoughts from his mind through the song and almost breathed a sigh of relief when "White Christmas" replaced the previous song. He untucked his gloved hands from his pockets and reached up to pull his hat further down over his ears. And one hard shove later and Kurt was on the ground, the cold quickly seeping through his jeans from where he'd fallen on his butt. A little breathless at having the wind knocked out of him, Kurt heard a clatter and a crash, followed by an "Ooof!" Then a man exclaimed, "Sorry!" with his voice already fading as the man skated away and he pulled up his skewed hat from over his eyes.

Biting his tongue, Kurt spewed all sorts of insults in his head at the hit-and-run skater and shifted to his knees to ask the other person the man had knocked down if he was okay. And at the sight of the mop of unusually curly black hair, even though the person's face was covered by his arms as he'd tried to protect himself as he fell, Kurt knew exactly who it was.

Blaine looked shocked as he lowered his hands to rub at his side. But the way Blaine avoided his gaze until the last minute possible told Kurt that it wasn't coincidence that Blaine was here. Kurt felt anger sizzle through his veins. Blaine was ruining this occasion, just like he ruined their relationship. Finally, Blaine lifted his gaze and for a moment, Kurt simply couldn't put the coldness into his words when he said, "What are you doing here?" Because Blaine didn't look like Blaine. He looked broken, frail, sadder than Kurt had ever seen him and his eyes were full of an emotion Kurt couldn't place.

Blaine's mouth opened a tiny bit before he scooted himself back, the pain in his side forgotten as he slid his bare hands on the ice to move away. "I…I'm…s…sorry. I didn't… I…"

It wasn't the cold making his voice shake. Blaine looked like a deer caught in the blinding headlights before the painful hit. And as much as Kurt hated him for betraying him, for cheating when the long distance had been hard on him too, and breaking every strand of trust he thought they'd created, Kurt couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He just looked….well to be frank, he looked pathetic. It was as if he expected Kurt to hit him, which even at his angriest, Kurt would never, ever do such a thing to anyone.

Blaine had stopped stuttering and just sat there with his knees bent at to the side, one skate lace undone and trailing down. He'd just stopped. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to disappear under the stare of Kurt's eyes and yet, it seemed like he couldn't get his body to move.

"I wasn't following you, I swear. I… I just… I'm sorry." His hand gripped back at his side and his eyes stayed downcast, as they had except for that one moment when they'd held each other's gaze.

Kurt couldn't keep the question from his mouth, but there wasn't any anger in his tone anymore, simply curiosity. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Something to do," Blaine said softly and the tone of his voice began to crack at Kurt's protected heart.

"Isn't—Doesn't Brittany throw a Christmas party around this time?"

"Wasn't invited." His tone stayed the same, and he didn't look up.

"What? Blaine that's—there's got to be a mistake or something." Kurt pushed himself up and brushed off his bottom as he stood, hoping his butt wasn't as wet as it felt. "Brittany is forgetful but she wouldn't—"

"I'm not hard to overlook," Blaine said quietly, as he attempted to stand.

Kurt quickly held out a hand. "Here."

Blaine didn't respond to him and even when he was standing, Kurt could see how the weight of loneliness was curving his shoulders forward and lowering his head. "What?" He pulled his hand back as the automatic reaction to being ignored was voiced.

"Nothing."

"No, it's not nothing. What is it?"

"Your dad's calling you." And Blaine turned to skate away and Kurt felt his brows pull down, waving blindly at his father. He rushed forward, grabbing Blaine's arm, surprised when Blaine yanked his arm away.

"What?"

"Oh, so now you want to talk?" Blaine's voice held the sharp sting of pain.

Kurt felt his defensiveness return. "I'm not the one who's following around the guy he cheated on. You wanted to say something, so say it."

Blaine was silent, eyes trying to hold Kurt's gaze steady but failing with the way his irises darted back and forth, the green magnified by the mounting tears. The reminder of their painful break-up clenched in Kurt's chest. For as long as he'd known Blaine, he should have remembered that a confrontation with Blaine only resulted in him closing off. Blaine swallowed hard, Kurt saw the words clearly written in his eyes proclaiming nothing short of 'help me,' and Kurt knew this went far deeper than what he'd brushed off.

"What's going on?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has self harm triggers. Please proceed with caution.

The cold air was breezing by, lifting Blaine’s ragged curls from his head, reminding them softly that the conversation was not over.  
“We’re both hurting,” Kurt began, not really sure why he was speaking now. “I shouldn’t even want to talk to you…” He sighed, aware of the pain in Blaine’s hazel eyes.  
They’d moved to the benches just outside the skating rink, Blaine’s skates on the ground beside him and he slipped on his shoes quickly. The toes were scuffed, Kurt noted. He always dragged the toe of his shoes behind him when he was standing still if he was anxious. Blaine swallowed. “You’re right.” He stood quickly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t want to talk to me either.”

Blaine was a few long strides ahead when Kurt stumbled forward, the laces on his skates undone and him tottering on the hard surface. “Blaine!”  
It was the pain in Kurt’s voice that made him stop walking. He turned, his eyes glazing over with fresh tears.  
Kurt’s arms fell to his sides. “Where are you going?”  
“Home.”  
“Alone?”  
His head dropped and lifted in disbelief, and he almost laughed. “Since when do you care if I’m going to be alone?”  
The question meant to be accusing, but it just solidified the fact that Blaine was by himself. Kurt yanked off his skates and met Blaine, his socked feet feeling the cold but he didn’t care. “Since something is really bothering you. And it hurts to see you like this. Please, just… just let me… Can I, I don’t know… talk to you, at least?”  
Hesitation flashed in his eyes, but eventually the muscles in his face relaxed, his eyebrows unknitting in ease.  
“You can’t hide everything away, Blaine,” Kurt said gently. “It’s killing you. And that kills me.”  
Blaine shrugged deeper into his coat, closing his eyes for a brief moment as though hearing it voiced how bad he’d gotten was painful to accept.  
“Can I buy you coffee?”

Kurt didn’t miss the way Blaine’s eyes widened slightly. “You… What?”  
“I want to buy you coffee. And talk.”  
Blaine brushed past him suddenly, darting back to the bench and leaving Kurt in a confused whirlwind before he turned around. But Blaine was already back, kneeling in front of him and setting down his shoes. “Your feet must be freezing,” he said softly.  
Kurt felt the twinge of affection in his heart. Even after all they’d been through, Blaine was still taking care of him and trying to put him first. He tied his shoes as quick as he could, readjusting his scarf as he straightened up. “So is that a yes or no?”  
Blaine was quiet for so long, Kurt thought he was going to say no. He thought he might say no after all, sizing up if he had some ulterior motive. But when he agreed, Kurt let out a soft breath and nodded. “Okay, then. I’ll go tell my dad and meet you by the entrance.”

********  
Burt was on his feet the moment Kurt was in view. “Hey, bud. Did I see Blaine over there?” The young girl who was around him earlier was out on the ice, tottering along and holding a death grip on the guards, her mother with one hand on her back to keep her steady.  
“Uh, yeah, you did. He’s um…” “Bit of a coincidence he’s here, too, huh?”  
“Yeah, something like that.” Kurt cleared his throat. “He doesn’t look good, dad. At all. I’ve never seen him like this. I’m going to take him to the coffee shop on Fourth, okay? I can take a cab home.”  
Burt looked apprehensive, leaning back on his heels and rocking forward. “You sure you want to do that? After he…?”  
“Cheated on me? Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t even want to look at him.” Kurt sighed. “But I really think I need to do this.”  
“It’s been, what, how many months? I don’t know, I just don’t want you to hurt anymore. Is being around him gonna hurt you?”  
Kurt bit his lip, not entirely sure. “If it does, it’ll be less than what he’s feeling right now. You didn’t see the pain in his eyes. I think he really needs me. I’ll be fine; I can handle myself.”  
Burt nodded. “If you really think this is what you need, then alright. Call me if you need me, okay?”  
“Thanks, dad,” Kurt gave him a smile and a hug before turning away. 

*******  
“Ready?”  
Blaine was leaning against the ticket booth, looking even smaller in the shadows provided by the overhang. He looked up at Kurt’s voice, coming forward in answer. His hands were still in his pockets and he’d pulled his beanie was low over his forehead but they fell into an easy stride together, Kurt remembering to give him space because Blaine tended to veer to the right when he was thinking about a lot at once. They were quiet for the walk, a short two blocks away, and Kurt was grateful for the welcoming warmth of the coffee shop. It had been a favorite hangout of theirs when they wanted somewhere more private. The Lima Bean had too many familiar faces around all the time. 

“Grab a table, okay? I’ll order.”  
“I’ve got it, it’s okay. There’s a booth over there; you should take it before someone else does.”  
“Blaine. I invited you, I’m paying.”  
There was a half-second of hesitation before he gave in, too drained to argue over something so petty. “Decaf then.”  
Kurt’s brows narrowed. Blaine didn’t drink decaf. But after Blaine was gone, he thought of the redness in his eyes and the grey tinge to his skin, his under eyes dark and shadowed. He probably hadn’t been sleeping, and caffeinated coffee this late would mean he wouldn’t sleep at all. Caffeine had never really affected Blaine that much though, but in the two months since they’d last spoken it seemed like there was a lot that had changed with Blaine. 

Kurt joined him at a table by the window, the snow beginning to fall softly now, and he was glad to be indoors. He draped his coat and scarf on the back of the chair and his gloves on the table, noticing Blaine had taken off his coat and beanie but not his scarf or gloves. He set his hands in his lap, his back curving forward as though he was trying to make himself smaller.  
When Kurt couldn’t take the silence any longer, he asked again the question that had gone unanswered on the ice. “What’s going on?”  
He watched Blaine shift uncomfortably and roll his shoulders.  
“How about we start with why you’re not at Brittany’s Christmas party?”  
“I told you I wasn’t invited,” Blaine said quietly.  
“Why not though?”  
Silence.  
“Blaine?”  
“One grande nonfat mocha and one decaf medium drip, ready at the bar!”

Kurt pursed his lips quickly and got up to get their drinks, bringing back a handful of stir sticks and sugar packets. He poured in creamer from the container at the table, and half a packet of sugar, watching Blaine fiddle with the stir stick in his hands. “Blaine,” he coaxed, “you can’t pretend like nothing’s going on. You have to talk about this. If not to me, then to them. I’m sure they would—“ He stopped mid-sentence at the look that crossed Blaine’s face. “What?”

“The only reason I was welcome in that school in the first place was because of you. All of them, every single one of them, was your friend first. Your friends before they became my friends.” He licked his lip, bringing his gaze up. “The only reason I knew anyone there was through you. So when everything happened, they immediately went back to you, were automatically on your side. No one believed that I had a reason for doing what I did, even though I tried to explain. I know it was a horrible thing to do, and I shouldn’t expect to ever be forgiven, but no one cared, no one noticed—” He shrugged, his voice beginning to shake and he cut off. No one noticed how upset and withdrawn he was, and how much worse he was getting. “I can’t just ‘talk to them,’ Kurt. They don’t want to hear what I have to say.”  
Kurt felt the defensiveness rise. “Well, have you even tried?”  
“Of course I have. But when a whole group collectively hates you, it’s not easy to find someone who wants to talk to you. The mood drops when I walk in the room. They stop talking, they find reasons to group together, they blatantly ignore me some days. So I stopped trying to talk to them. It’s easier to blend into the background.”

Kurt tilted his head, speaking gently. “I don’t think they would—“  
“Kurt, you aren’t there. You don’t know what they would or wouldn’t do,” Blaine snapped, tossing the stir stick aside and crossing his arms. Anger flashed in his eyes, and the chair scraped as he stood.  
“Blaine, wait.” Kurt held out his hand. “I’m sorry. Please, sit back down. Please.”  
He sighed and complied, pushing aside his untouched coffee.  
“I’m sorry,” Kurt repeated. “I didn’t know.”  
Blaine was silent, playing with a loose thread on his gloves. “I was alone when you left. It’s like you were the only thing tying me to everyone else, but at least I was able to have someone to talk to. After…” he sighed, the shame and hatred of his actions still crossing his face with visible pain. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so truly alone. I was worse than invisible. There, but completely and utterly ignored. I stopped singing, I stopped trying to interact with everyone else. I’m failing most of my classes because I’m too tired to study. I can’t sleep.” Blaine’s voice had started shaking, the tears falling in silent streams.

“You’re depressed,” Kurt whispered, the ache for Blaine’s pain evident in his voice, and the conclusion was suddenly so clear. Did their friends really just ignore all that Blaine was going through? Did they leave him to get worse and worse every day, and not care at all? But Kurt had cut him off, too, ignored his calls and texts and was convinced he was in the right. And Blaine was falling apart while the people who were supposed to be his friends stood by and watched him crumble. He reached across the table but his hands grasped at nothing when Blaine jerked his hands back, pulling them across his body protectively as he turned his face away.

The sting of realization shot through his body. His throat was suddenly dry, and he felt his own eyes welling with tears. He had been alone in New York, but he’d had his job, his co-workers, and his friends in Lima still talked to him, in addition to Rachel at the apartment. Blaine had no one.  
“All I wanted was to feel wanted. I was so tired of being alone. I thought you didn’t love me anymore. I tried to get through to you, to tell you how I was feeling. But you ignored me. It was the worst mistake I’ve ever made in my entire life, you have to know that. I thought that I’d already lost you and you were just too busy to tell me yourself and I thought if I felt something with someone else, it would be easier when you finally broke up with me. But I felt nothing. Nothing but sick about what I’d done. And when we did break up, I knew it was all my fault. And everything… everything changed after that.”  
Kurt wiped away the tears, Blaine’s explanation finally being heard. It hurt, it still hurt, but time away and a new perspective made it easier to hear what Blaine was trying to say, rather than pushing it away in anger. He bit his lip, sighing deeply. His heart didn’t shoot up the protective walls as he thought it might, he didn’t feel anger or distance. Then the words he never thought he’d say were on his lips, and he meant them. “I forgive you.”

Blaine’s head jerked up. Kurt nodded, affirming that Blaine did hear what he thought he’d heard. “But… why?”  
The hum of the espresso machine and the glow of the streetlights brought back many memories of late-night talks here. They’d picked a booth every time, the one with the view to the street, and they’d sit on one side with a hand on the other’s knee or interlaced under the table, stolen kisses between hidden smiles.  
“Because I do care about you. And yes, you messed up. Badly. But I was the one who drove you away, into someone else’s arms.” Sadness crossed his features. He hadn’t thought about the reason Blaine had cheated; it hadn’t been important. He knew Blaine had cheated and he thought he’d known why, but he was wrong. All this time he’d been wrong, pushing Blaine further away in the same time he’d been shoved into silence and isolation, left for his fear and sadness to strip away everything he knew and everything he was. “I pushed you away when I should have been there for you, and I’m sorry.”  
Blaine’s eyes shined, a glimmer of life sparking with the first hopeful feeling he’d had in so long. 

Kurt held out his hands, upturned on the table in offering. “Please,” Kurt whispered.  
Blaine’s fingers pulled at the loose thread again, and he hesitated. Kurt began to draw his hands back but at his movement, Blaine slowly reached out and slid his hands into Kurt’s. Relief flooded his veins, and Kurt held his hands firmly, his thumbs stroking the warm material of the gloves. Holding his hands brought a comfort he hadn’t known he missed so badly. The anger, the sadness, the betrayal, all of it trickled away in this one moment, something he never thought would happen. The softest of smiles appeared on Blaine’s face but when Kurt squeezed his hand, fear flashed in his gaze.  
“What is it?” he asked gently.  
“Nothing,” Blaine said, but Kurt knew better.  
“Blaine… There’s more, isn’t there?” He leaned forward, his face falling. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He tried to pull from Kurt’s grasp, but Kurt kept their hands together. The gloves slid forward and suddenly it made sense. His reluctance to touch him, his constant returning to the thread at his wrist an unconscious reminder, his refusal to take them off. Tears filled Kurt’s eyes immediately, and he felt like his chest had been gripped in iron chains. “Oh, Blaine…” he whispered, so softly he didn’t know if he’d actually spoken. Blaine tore his hands from Kurt’s and crossed his arms close, not meeting Kurt’s eyes. “Please,” he said, making sure he was heard this time. “Let me see.”

Blaine walked to the door without another word, turning his head away where the curls fell over his eyes and he hugged his jacket to his chest. Kurt fumbled for his belongings and almost tripped in his haste to reach him. Blaine was out the door before Kurt caught him, his hand pulling at Blaine’s shoulder.  
“Don’t… Don’t shut me out,” Kurt pleaded, and he placed himself in front of Blaine, cupping his hands to Blaine’s face and brushing away the tears. The snow was falling harder and they were both shivering, jackets tucked in their arms. “I wasn’t there for you. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Blaine. But I’m here now. And I want to help you. You don’t need to feel alone anymore.”  
Blaine finally met his eyes, the snow falling on his lashes and sticking in Kurt’s hair. And Kurt felt him relax under his hands, and Blaine just nodded, the tears falling faster as he let himself cry harder. Kurt gathered him in a tight hug, feeling Blaine’s forehead press against the hollow of his neck, felt Blaine shake in his grasp. He held him for a long while, the snow and icy wind not nearly as cold as they should be. When Blaine pulled away, Kurt cleaned the tears from his face, almost surprised when Blaine leaned into his hand and closed his eyes. “Let me take you home,” he said and snaked an arm around Blaine’s waist. They stood on the curb close together, Kurt hailing a cab and letting him get in first. 

*****  
Blaine dropped his keys on the table of his small apartment. His jacket, scarf, and hat draped over one of the two chairs at the table. The soft glow around them illuminated the space. Kurt had heard through Mercedes that Blaine had gotten his own apartment, and Kurt didn’t know what he’d expected when he pictured Blaine’s apartment but it certainly wasn’t this. It was a studio, small in square footage and there were sparks of what looked like Blaine’s attempt to bring modern decor to the place with a transparent curtain to separate his bed from the living area, which was just a small loveseat piled up with discarded clothes. There were a few decorative wall hangings and an ornate lamp in the corner. The dishes in the sink were at least clean, but they were piled in one side, some more stacked next to the sink as though Blaine started to put them away and then didn’t care enough to finish. His laptop sat charging on the unmade bed, shoes tossed about wherever they fell when he’d thrown them. Kurt’s gaze lingered on the kitchen counter where multiple bottles of alcohol in varying degrees of fullness were sitting in the center next to a grocery bag of apples. He didn’t need to get close to see how the fruit was wrinkled and going bad. Blaine wasn’t old enough to buy alcohol though, and he didn’t want to know how he’d gotten it. And the fact that Blaine was drinking alone when he’d been so depressed was another stab to Kurt’s heart. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t known anything. 

Blaine sighed, running a hand on the table and shrugged towards Kurt. “Well, um, this is it, I guess.”  
“It’s… nice,” Kurt finished, setting his stuff down on the opposite chair.  
“Don’t lie,” Blaine mumbled, suddenly acutely aware how much he’d let his apartment reflect his depressive moods. He felt ashamed he’d let it get this bad, now that someone other than himself was seeing it. And in truth, he hadn’t even noticed until now. The place was dusty, hadn’t been vacuumed or cleaned since he moved in, and he was pretty sure the refrigerator was full of the multitude of leftover pizza or Chinese food he’d often order and then feel sick after a few bites. 

With a softening look, Kurt began to fold the clothes strewn on the love seat and floor. He brought the piles to the table, then grabbed Blaine’s hand and pulled him to the now-clear seating area. Blaine swallowed, his heart stuttering when Kurt cupped his cheek again, so close their thighs were touching. He felt his face flame in embarrassment when Kurt’s hands drifted to his own and carefully took off the gloves. He wanted so badly to yank away when Kurt took a breath and turned his arm, exposing his wrists. His hands began to shake, and he was silent as Kurt so, so gently stroked his thumb over a silvery scar on his wrist. That one was old, healed now, though the rest of the scars and cuts streaking up and down a few inches of his skin were indications of how bad things had gotten. There were three new ones on his left wrist, last night’s soothing routine so he could fall asleep. The skin was red and sensitive, the blood mostly dried now, though there were dotted smears from everyday movement jostling the fresh wounds. Kurt repeated the action with the right wrist, though there were less streaks and scars there. Blaine was right-handed, and favored his left wrist when his mind was so blank he couldn’t hardly remember how to breathe. Wordlessly, Kurt blinked away his tears at the confirmation of what he didn’t want to be true and went to the bathroom, digging under the sink for the first aid kit. He turned and spotted the open shampoo bottle in the shower and capped it. His heart clenched at the three razor blades on the holder where his soap should have been. He swallowed quickly to dispel the rising nausea. 

When he returned, Blaine was curled up, wrapping his arms around his knees and curving his shoulders forward by the armrest. As he expected, the first aid kit had hardly been touched. The pain and throbbing aftershocks to his act gave him something to feel other than despair and sadness, and he’d grown accustomed to the familiar routine. Kurt handed him painkillers and water, which he downed without a word, and then he sat next to him and began the delicate task of cleaning and bandaging Blaine’s cuts. When both wrists were adequately wrapped in gauze and first aid tape, Kurt set the kit aside and brought Blaine’s wrist to his face, gently kissing his knuckles.  
“Thank you,” Blaine whispered, still unable to meet Kurt’s eyes.  
Kurt tilted his head and used his fingertips to draw Blaine’s face upwards. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry, Blaine. I never meant for any of this to happen.”  
Blaine swallowed, licking his lips. “You’re here now,” he said gently, touching Kurt’s jaw so softly, something he hadn’t done in months, something he had dreamed about every night since Kurt had told him to get out of his life and never come back. 

Kurt shifted, pulling Blaine down with him and holding him to his chest, their legs falling into an easy intertwined link. Blaine relaxed into his arms, all the tension he’d been carrying that never seemed like it would lift a sudden release and he found himself crying again, but this time it was in relief that his body was no longer aching, his hands reaching out for someone who he thought would never be there again. He pulled Kurt’s arms closer around himself, Kurt nuzzling into Blaine’s neck and breathing in the soft scent he’d known so well. And Kurt cried too, cried for Blaine’s pain and his anguish, cried for himself and what he both hand and hadn’t done, cried for them and their months apart that pushed Blaine to his breaking point. They cried together, in pain, in fear, in relief.

Kurt held Blaine tighter, the tears drying on his cheeks and he pressed a soft kiss to Blaine’s temple. He knew from the even breathing that Blaine had fallen asleep. He ran his fingers along Blaine’s forehead, gently shaking him awake. “Hey,” he whispered, when Blaine opened bleary eyes to meet his. “Come on.” He sat up, helping Blaine up too, and walked him to the bed. Kurt moved the laptop and charger to the floor, sending a quick text to his dad to let him know he wouldn’t be home tonight. He glanced away when he saw the trash can filled with bloody tissues from Blaine’s latest coping session. Blaine needed him more. Kurt knelt and took Blaine’s shoes and socks off, starting a neat pile on the ground next to his own shoes. Blaine fumbled with his sweatshirt, the thin t-shirt underneath following as Kurt handed him a clean shirt from the drawer. He folded those and next handed over pajama pants, turning away to take off his own shirt and slip on one of Blaine’s. The pajama pants he borrowed were loose on his hips as they always had been, but when they crawled into bed, exhausted and closer than they’d been in months, Kurt realized how much weight Blaine had lost and how the pants fit him loosely, too. The outerwear had disguised the weight loss, and Kurt couldn’t help running his hand along the soft fabric covering Blaine’s hipbones. His hand tensed as he felt Blaine’s ribs, more prominent now than they’d ever been. Blaine sucked in a breath at his touch, and he turned over.  
“Blaine…” Kurt whispered, feeling the sadness crash again like a wave.  
“It’s okay,” Blaine replied in the same soft tone. “I’m okay.”  
He pulled Blaine in his arms again, drawing soft patterns into his back. Blaine’s forehead pressed into Kurt’s neck and his arms gripped him with a gentle firmness. “I’ve missed you,” Kurt said, the first time he’d voiced the words aloud. “I tried to not feel it, but I missed you so much. So much, Blaine.”  
“I missed you, too,” Blaine murmured from beneath Kurt’s chin. Then his head lifted, and Kurt’s heart began to pound. He was sure Blaine could feel the hammering beneath his chest. 

Kurt paused, looking down at Blaine, so close he could feel his warm breath on his lips. His heart battered against his bones, and then he closed the distance between them. He kissed Blaine so gently, and Blaine trembled beneath him. Then they pulled away, Blaine’s eyes searching Kurt’s, silently armoring himself for Kurt to say that this was a mistake. But Kurt leaned forward, touching their noses together before closing the space again. He kissed him deeply now, his fingers tightening in Blaine’s hair. He pulled him closer, gently, handling him with fragility. “I’m sorry,” Kurt whispered between kisses. “I’m so sorry.” 

Blaine let himself be held, kissing him back and opening his mouth wider, already breathless and shaking. “Hold me tighter,” he breathed, and Kurt did, pulling him impossibly closer, tangling their legs even further.  
Kurt rested their foreheads together. “I was so stupid. So stupid, please forgive me.”  
Blaine nodded against his forehead, his breathing shaky. “I do.” He kissed him again, tilting his head to deepen the angle, pressing against Kurt, pushing him back against the pillows. Kurt’s hands ran up and down Blaine’s sides, fingers dancing at the hem of his shirt. Kurt moaned against Blaine’s lips when his tongue dipped into Kurt’s mouth. They kissed each other breathless, the sighs and moans mounting as they relished in their touches. 

When Kurt pulled away, Blaine’s mind was hazy and finally blank with hesitant contentment instead of the absence of emotion. Kurt pressed a final kiss to Blaine’s temple and gathered him up in his arms. He sighed to control his heavy breaths, Blaine doing the same beneath him. “Don’t leave,” Blaine said, and Kurt held him tighter.  
“I won’t. I’m not,” he assured him, the aching loss in his chest that had settled there since their break up finally lifting. “I’ve got you; I’m here.”  
Blaine snuggled in, body relaxing against Kurt. He was already drifting, already falling into the contented sleep that had evaded him except when he drank himself blind.  
“I’m here,” Kurt repeated, pulling the covers closer and closing his eyes, letting himself relax, his arms whole once again with Blaine there.  
Blaine had always felt emotions strongly, and with no one to go to to express those emotions he’d turned to the only things that gave him relief. It broke Kurt’s heart to see it, and throbbed the pain further when he thought about how utterly alone Blaine had been. But he wasn’t going anywhere now. He’d quit NYADA and move back in with his dad if he had to. 

He wasn’t going to abandon Blaine, not again.


End file.
